


The Empath

by Xemriss



Category: Flight Rising, Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-08-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 10:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16993302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xemriss/pseuds/Xemriss
Summary: Dymura asks for his mentor's help with running away.





	1. I Get By With A Little Help

**Author's Note:**

> Serkalem belong to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, characters are in humanoid form.

The blood rushing through **[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** ’s ears was deafening as he slipped into the library through the less-guarded side entrance. He pressed his lithe form against the cool, stone wall to catch his breath, and after listening for the guards’ footsteps, let out a relieved exhale.

He hadn’t been seen.

Dymura was positive that, if not for his father’s early tutelage to help him control his empathy, most of the castle would’ve been able to sense him by now. He crept down the dimly lit rows of familiar bookshelves, keeping an eye out as he made his way towards the back half, and froze when he saw slight movement at a small reading table.

After turning the page, the dark form in question spoke with a curious tone, startling Dymura. “What is it, child? You should be in bed.”

Dymura couldn’t help but feel sheepish at being called out by his mentor, and after taking a deep breath, he nervously walked over to him. It was now or never, and even though the prince had spent  _hours_  rehearsing this conversation alone in his room, the words came out too soft and rushed.

“I need your help, **[Serkalem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38313355)**.”

He watched Serkalem pause, and when his mentor’s eyes — white irises surrounded by black — caught Dymura’s own Light, he closed and set down his book.

“What help can I offer you this late at night, Dymura?”

Unable to look him in the face now, Dymura uselessly glanced about the darkness around them while the words he had struggled to keep bottled up for so long finally spilled out. “I… I want out. I  _need_  to get out. I don’t like it here. The constant eyes… the scrutiny of my actions, no matter how small. I love my family, the kingdom, but I  _hate_  it, Serkalem. It’s driving me crazy. I—”

He hadn’t realized there were tears running down his face — an alternative, arguably annoying, outlet he developed for when he felt intense emotion while his empathy was suppressed — until one of Serkalem’s hands gently clasped his shoulder in comfort, the other offering him a small, absorbent cloth. Dymura blinked down at it, not having realized that Serkalem had even  _moved_  during his confession, then silently accepted the cloth and wiped at his face.

“Are you sure this is what you w—?”

“ _Yes_!” Dymura blurted, his body jerking at the force. He felt embarrassment warm his dampened cheeks, but before he could apologize for his rudeness, Serkalem continued, seemingly not upset at his outburst.

“Do you have a plan for after you’re outside Ajela’ar’s territory?”

Stunned, the prince blinked up at him, obviously not having expected Serkalem to be okay with this. “I… yes,” he softly repeated. “Yes. I just need help with getting that far.”

Serkalem  _was_  loyal to his King and Queen, to a point. If it hadn’t been for his loyalty to Sithis, he would’ve told them.

“I’ll come for you three nights from now,” he said, quickly pressing a finger to Dymura’s lips when the boy made to protest. “Three more days, Prince Dymura, and then you’re free.”

Dymura stared at his mentor with wide eyes as his words sank in, then swallowed. After his silent nod of agreement, Serkalem returned him to his bedroom, undetected.

_You did it_ , the soft voice in Dymura’s mind praised after he settled back under the covers.  _W_ …  _you’re going to be_  free.

“I’m going to be free,” Dymura repeated, tone hopeful.


	2. Freedom Comes With A Stipulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Serkalem sneaks Dymura out and introduces his new guard, Lveoyl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serkalem belong to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, characters are in humanoid form.

To **[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** , the days leading up to his inevitable freedom seemed to drag slower and slower. He went through the motions of his daily studies and chores more to keep himself busy than anything else, and when asked about his ‘unusual behavior’, he shrugged it off, claimed that he just had a restless night (which wasn’t far from the truth).

The prince quietly sat at the desk in his room on the second night, stared at the blank parchment in front of him as a single candle burned. He contemplated on what to say to his parents, on how to explain to them — and his siblings — why he had left; what he couldn’t do face-to-face. At the insistence of the whispers in his head, he gave up and went to bed when the candle had burned almost halfway — the parchment still blank.

Dymura was elated when **[Serkalem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38313355)** slipped into his room without a sound on the third night, as promised; briefly slipped up with his empathy, yet knew the guards wouldn’t think anything of it as long as it didn’t happen again.

“Are you ready, child?”

With a nod, Dymura threw off the covers and bolted to his feet, grabbed a small bag of belongings and supplies he had stashed under his bed earlier that day. Serkalem motioned for his ward to follow, whispered, “Stay close,” then slipped back into the hall.

The prince was glad he had asked Serkalem to help — glad his mentor had agreed — as the pair made their way through the guarded halls with ease. He silently noted it was as if they were part of the shadows, even while directly in the hall’s light.

Serkalem finally allowed him a moment’s rest after they evaded all and stepped out into the night through an unguarded entrance Dymura hadn’t previously known of. He frowned in confusion as he heard light, jingling noises, then, startled by movement in the corner of his eye, dashed behind Serkalem. A tall form, currently unarmed and barely illuminated by the dim moonlight, briskly approached the pair. Unbothered by the stranger’s presence, Serkalem turned to face Dymura.

“Prince Dymura, may I introduce to you **[Lveoyl](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2307838)**. From this moment forward, she’s your guard.” At Dymura’s expression of betrayal, he raised a finger to pause the boy’s argument. “Consider her service as a parting gift from me. She has no ties to the kingdom, nor will demand anything of you unless your life is threatened. Her price for protection has already been paid in full, and when you are fully matured you may decide whether or not to let her go.”

Dymura glanced from his mentor to his newly appointed guard, then wilted, though his expression was that of understanding. “Okay.”

Serkalem gently pulled him in for a short, firm hug. “Stay safe, Dymura. The kingdom has eyes and ears in  _many_  places, so don’t stick to one for too long, nor use your title. Trust in your training.”

Feeling an almost overwhelming mix of relief at getting his wish, and anxiousness and guilt at leaving all familiarity behind, Dymura found himself unable to speak to, nor look at, his mentor. Managing a short nod, he quickly moved to Lveoyl’s side.

The adults shared a brief look, and the new, unfamiliar pair silently began to put distance between them and Ajela’ar.


	3. Name Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dymura starts his journey as a runaway and finally names the whispers in his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Serkalem belongs to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, characters are in humanoid form.

Paranoid that they’d be caught, **[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** couldn’t help the occasional glances behind him as the pair slowly walked for the rest of the night.

They took a rest when dawn approached, then, when daylight finally broke, shifted to their dragon forms and traveled almost non-stop for the next three days.

Dymura spent much of it resting atop **[Lveoyl](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2307838)** ’s back, his body  _far_  from used to such taxing amounts of physical activity. He enjoyed the sights and sounds, asked the whispers countless questions, and slept.

The first clan they came across was small, and, after Lveoyl rented a room at an inn, Dymura had never been so happy to see a bed.

\- - - - -

Dymura’s first week of his long-sought freedom began then, and it had been terribly rocky. He had laughed, cried — sometimes simultaneously — dreamt of the endless future possibilities, experienced homesickness, regret, and  _guilt_. On more than one occasion, he begged Lveoyl to take him back; spewed hateful words at her, fueled by anger, when she firmly denied him each time.

When the week was over he was both sheepish and relieved she hadn’t listened to him. He believed the reason was because he had been emotionally distressed — though the real reason she had denied him was solely because of how much  **[Serkalem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38313355)**  paid her upfront.

The whispers had been nothing but soft and reassuring all that week, as if it was substituting for his parents. At times it only succeeded in making him  _more_  upset, and it went quiet during those times until he had no more tears to shed. It reminded him that he was able to do what he wanted when he wanted, now, and, if he wanted to, he could visit his family in the future.

“I wish I could see you,” Dymura had whispered out loud one night during the second week, after having been awoken from a bad dream by the whispers. He muffled a sniffle as he waited for a reply, trying to not disturb his guard, who was, presumably, asleep in the bed across the room.

_You don’t need to see me to know I’m here_.

The whispers were right, he knew, but being looked at funny when he mumbled to himself in public was one of his least favorite things.

At that moment it occurred to him, with a fresh surge of guilt, that he had no idea what its name was. “What’s your name?”

There was a long, unusual pause.  _How about you pick one for me?_

Dymura blinked in surprise, bit his lip. “I’ve never named anything before…”

_Do your toys not count?_

“That’s different,” Dymura mumbled, feeling his cheeks warm.

_Of course_.

Dymura sat up and wiped at his face, sighed. “Okay. Let’s see…”

With a determined expression, the boy rattled off some names, frowned when none of them seemed to fit.

_Take your t_ —

“ **[Lem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=5320260)**!” Realizing what he had done, Dymura’s hands flew to cover his mouth, and he held his breath as he waited. When Lveoyl didn’t stir, he slowly lowered them and exhaled in relief. “H-how about ‘Lem’?” he softly repeated, sheepishly wringing his hands as the whispers echoed the name. He missed his mentor.

_I like it_.

Dymura perked up. “Really!?”

_Yes_.

The boy grinned, slept well that night after getting himself a much-needed drink of water at Lem’s gentle insistence.


	4. A Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dymura receives a vague, yet shocking, call from Sithis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sithis belongs to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Characters are in humanoid form.

**[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** bolted to his feet from a dead sleep, panting and sweaty as if he had just finished sparring with  **[Lveoyl](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2307838)** , his guard. Body tense, he worked to blink away the fogginess while the rest of him struggled to catch up.

He was still in his and Lveoyl’s inn room, saw that she was still in bed.

The realization that he was  _safe_  overwhelmed him, and he heavily sank to his knees with a sob of relief, covered his mouth with both hands to muffle the ones that followed.

The contents of the dream —  _nightmare_  — had already erased itself from his memory, but the feelings that accompanied it — fear, dread,  _grief_  — heavily lingered as if to make a point. It only added to his confusion.

_Dymura?_

He heard his name, but couldn’t get himself to calm down enough to respond. When a hand soothingly squeezed his shoulder, it reminded him of his mother; threatened another wave of tears.

_Dymura_ , the voice repeated. Though it was calm, it held a hint of urgency.

The young man’s wet eyes finally fluttered open, easily met a pair of familiar, floating red ones that were level with his when he looked up. He cleared his throat and wiped his face, but didn’t feel shame at his breakdown. “ **[Lem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=5320260)** …”

_What did you see?_

He weakly shook his head, held back another sob as he gave a helpless shrug. “I have no idea. Something… something  _awful_.”

_I felt it, too_ , Lem said.  _Sithis may be trying to warn us, if whatever it is has unnerved Him so terribly_.

Head already  _much_  clearer now than it had been moments ago, Dymura nodded, tried to rationalize. “We have to return home. Maybe… maybe they have some idea of what’s happening; maybe He does. Maybe He wants us home to help.”

Lem’s eyes slightly moved up and down, as if imitating a nod.  _We must leave soon, then_.

“Okay.” Dymura forced out a long, deep breath, wiped at his face once more before running his hands through his hair. “Okay,” he echoed.

Uneasiness was already making itself at home in his stomach for more than one reason. He had wanted to wait until he had  _something_  solid and ‘worthy’ under his belt to show for his leaving home so early; to make his family, his mentor, even his  _people_ , proud.

Dymura stood as Lem’s eyes faded, smoothed out his sleep clothes, then padded across the room to Lveoyl’s bed.

He hoped they weren’t too late.


	5. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dymura finds out what happened to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of dead bodies and vomit.
> 
> Dymura's parents and siblings, and Sithis, belong to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Unless otherwise stated, characters are in humanoid form.

The breath rushed from **[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** ’s lungs when he was close enough to make out who the bodies belonged to — immediately wished he hadn’t.

“ _No!_ ”

His mother, sister,  _and_  brother were strewn up in the middle of the courtyard for all to see; the bodies of his fathers were absent; instead there was an item that represented each of them — **Daimhin** ’s sword was stuck into the earth, Malzahar’s crown precariously dangled from its hilt.

An overwhelmingly heavy feeling settled in his stomach, made him stumble before pulling him down to his knees.

Though not nearly close enough, Dymura slowly reached out with a shaking hand. He intended to touch the crown, but his limb didn’t extend halfway before rushing to cover his mouth instead.

As the first of many sobs tore from him, his position eerily mirrored the one from when he awoke after the nightmare in the inn that had led him here. His shoulders jerked from the force, other arm clutching around his middle for comfort as he folded in on himself.

His head spun as thoughts raced through it. When it became too much, he managed to move his hand away from his mouth in time to empty the contents of his stomach in front of him.

Dymura whimpered as all of his strength was abruptly sapped from him, struggled to keep his eyes open. He felt a weight on the middle of his back, but when his mouth moved no sound came out.

_I know_ , **[Lem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=5320260)** solemnly whispered through his mind.  _I’ll get it_.  _Rest now_.

Dymura’s sight faded to black. He welcomed it.

* * *

**[Lveoyl](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2307838)** silently stood a polite distance away. She ignored the uneasy feeling in her gut, kept watch as she witnessed her ward’s world crumble, his heart be all but physically ripped from his chest.

There was a sign placed by the morbid display that held an obvious warning:  _Beware the wrath of Sithis_. The name  _was_  familiar; but she knew little of Him; had heard it all in passing.

She turned her attention back to Dymura when his sobs tapered off; didn’t think it odd when his focus shifted to his hands as he flexed them, nor when it took him a long moment to find his footing and stand. She watched him briefly sway before shuffling around the puddle of vomit.

What  _did_  get her attention was when a few dark tendrils formed directly from his shadow to free the sword from the ground. One of them wrapped around the blade’s length before the other two carefully presented it to him.

Lveoyl grasped the hilt of her own sword as Dymura tested the weapon’s weight in his hands. She paused when he slowly turned towards her, tensed when she noticed that his eyes, still puffy from crying, were  _red_.

“H… he wan…” ‘Dymura’ slurred, voice soft and distant. He looked  _perplexed_ , mouthed his next words a handful of times before trying again. “He wan… you to… to h… hold…” he trailed off, glanced down at the item in question.

Lveoyl nodded to let him know she understood, had a feeling that she already knew the answer as she asked, “Who are you?”

‘Dymura’s expression went blank, unreadable. It unnerved her  _far_  more than the change in color of his eyes, than the fact that they had control of Dymura’s body.

“L… Lem.”


	6. A Father's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dymura receives a grim, foreboding vision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains brief violence near the end.
> 
> Malzahar, Sithis, and Serkalem belong to Griminal #309235 on FR.
> 
> Characters are in humanoid form.

**[Dymura](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=40355583)** ’s reason for being in the tunnel was long gone.

Even with his experience of having spent the majority of his youth underground, he felt like he had walked for  _hours_ , made  _no_  progress.

The part that stuck out to him  _wasn’t_  that it was sparsely lit with torches, as if the ones that regularly traversed the path had no need for them anymore, nor the constant feeling of being watched. It was that it didn’t seem to have  _any_  branching paths.

“ _Dymura?_ ”

Unnerved, he froze as the soft voice echoed around him, was thankful to be in a lighted area even if it did nothing to aid his situation. His eyes strained to see beyond the light’s reach as he tried to figure out which direction it came from. It sounded like his father’s.

“ _Dy-mura_ ,” it repeated, slightly drawing out his name. He ignored the cold chills that spread through him, fought the sudden urge to bolt the way he came.

“Dad?” the prince whispered in return, unable to help the hopeful tone. He gasped from both surprise and relief when **Malzahar** ’s form slowly, silently, stepped out of the shadows ahead. “Dad!” he exclaimed. He rushed to embrace him, borderline clinging; didn’t think much of it when Malzahar stiffened at the contact. “I  _knew_  you had survived! Gods, I’ve been looking for you  _everywhere_.”

The prince’s eyes quickly squeezed shut against the sudden waves of nostalgia and safety when he felt his father’s hand cradle the back of his head. He hummed, briefly squeezed tighter when Malzahar’s free arm hesitantly wrapped around him in return.

After a few long moments Dymura pulled back to get a better look at his father’s face. He noticed his eyes seemed to have a darker hue, but quickly dismissed it as a trick of the torch’s light as he began trying to explain himself. “I’m… I’m sorry I left. I should’ve… I was on the way when…” He trailed off when curiosity flickered through his father’s face, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Dymura yelped as he was abruptly spun around by his shoulders.

“It’s Awakened,” Malzahar said, clearly referring to Dymura’s Shade as he firmly put the prince in a headlock. “What was the final push? Did it happen before or after you found out your family was dead?”

Dymura’s response came out as a wheeze. Panic swelled as he grappled with his father’s arm exactly how  **[Lveoyl](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=2307838)**  had taught him.

Malzahar briefly indulged in the struggle before tightening his hold, growled low in disgust. “Weak. You should’ve been there. **Sithis** isn’t upset with  _you_ , but I’m sure He would’ve allowed **[Serkalem](http://flightrising.com/main.php?dragon=38313355)** to give you a merciful death.”

Unable to dwell on the words, Dymura, sensing that consciousness was quickly slipping from him, blindly felt for the daggers at his hips.

* * *

Dymura awoke from the nightmare-premonition as his father swiftly snapped his neck. The reason for the tears that streamed down his face were already long forgotten as he curled in on himself.


End file.
